Just Another Day
by Old Fiat
Summary: Atobe and Sengoku both like An, so Atobe decides it would be best for both of them and An if only one continued to ask her out. They choose 6 challenges 7 if there's a tie to decide who is more worthy of An. Pairings: AtobeXAn, SengokuXAn
1. It Must Be Love

**JUST ANOTHER DAY**

Old Fiat s. Italy

Note from the author:

This was written for OFnFR's birthday. Happy Birthday ST!

I hope you guys enjoy, since I have all the chapters already written, this'll be updated fairly quickly. Just give me the rate you'd like the chapters to be posted. (No quicker than once a day. I recently got some sort of life.)

Let's get going:

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**Chapter One**

Kiyosumi Sengoku always thought it was good to think on the roof of his house. He could see the whole neighborhood from there. On his right he could see all the way to the end on the suburban housing, and a little of the short roads to Tokyo; and on his left, all the way to the gated community, Oakwood. He knew his dad was doing well in business because they were in a nice cozy middle.

There were a lot of different families that left their windows open all summer. Sengoku's favorite was an Indian family who lived in a bright red house. They were always speaking loudly and playing Bollywood films. Since they only lived a block away, he could always hear their loud conversations and the high-pitched woman on their television. He loved seeing the tall, elegant father get into his small black car and drive towards Oakwood for work each morning, and Sengoku always paused on his way to school to watch him.

Sengoku's own father ran a restaurant in the city specializing in Italian food. Good Italian food, mind you. His father would never sell anything less than perfect. While Mr. Sengoku wasn't actually a very good cook, but he knew business. Besides, he didn't cook anything in the restaurant.

At that moment actually, Sengoku was sitting on his roof. He was watching the gates of the Funny Farm. (That's what everyone called Oakwood. It was filled with actors, models, singers and fashion designers. All the insane, rich families lived in Oakwood. He had been told Goldenwood, the housing area just beyond Oakwood, was where the actually sane, rich people lived.)

He decided he had been thinking long enough and needed some excitement. There was never much to do in the summer. Once the hot humid air settled over Tokyo, nobody wanted to leave their cool, air-conditioned houses.

Everyone except Sengoku.

He loved the thick, warm air. It was like walking through soup. Also there weren't as many people walking down the streets in the summer, excluding a few tourists.

He stood up on the roof and grabbed a tree branch. It was easy to see he'd done this many times before. He climbed down and few branches and stepped back through the window and into his room.

The entire Sengoku house was decorated mostly in beige and his room was no exception. The white walls had the occasional bright posters of Nadal and Federer stuck on them; the hard wood bookshelves had very few books (Sengoku read mostly magazines, and most of them were on the floor) and a lot of tennis trophies and old rackets. The closet doors were always open to reveal thousands of pieces of clothing, most of them on the floor of the closet with more tennis things. His shoes were in a box at the back of the closet. It was a big box and most of his shoes looked rather similar in the morning, so sometimes he came to school with one blue-and-white Nike and one blue-and-white Sketchers. They didn't look similar either! One was slightly smaller and the other had a thinner sole so he walked around school all day feeling _very_ lopsided.

Sengoku jogged down the steps and into the kitchen.

"Mom?" he called in the pristine kitchen. "Can I go bicycle into Tokyo?"

"Fine," she turned another page of _The Nanny Diaries_. "Make sure to pop into the restaurant and tell your father you're in the city. And head home with when he closes up."

"Alright!" he ran into the garage and wheeled out his bicycle. It was an old bike, with a 1960s feel to it. He also grabbed his bag of rackets. He had heard there were some cool street courts in Tokyo, if they were empty, maybe he could practice a little. He wasn't feeling very show off-y that day.

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Two weeks later, Atobe Keigo walked quickly towards the street tennis courts, Kabaji in tow. The gray haired youth held a bouquet of violently red tulips and seemed a little nervous judging by how quickly and how much he was speaking to his companion.

"Well, Kabaji, do you think An will like these tulips? I recall her saying to the twit, Kamio, that they were her favorite flower. She'll probably swoon they moment I ask her out to that French food place, ne Kabaji?"

"Usu."

"Do you think I should've done something with my hair? Like, let it curl or something? No…No, she knows me looking like this, so I will stay like this, ne Kabaji?"

"Usu," Kabaji resisted the urge to roll his eyes. An would be more likely to go out with Atobe if she couldn't tell who he was.

"I think I'll say to her, 'Miss Tachibana, would you like to join me at eight o'clock to eat at the Chat d'Noir?' That'll sound good. No… No—No, I should hand her the flowers first, then ask her out, ne Kabaji?"

"Usu," Kabaji wished he was at home. He wanted to curl up on the couch with his little sister and watch _High School Musical 2: Dance A-Long Edition_.

Atobe paused in front of the steps to the street courts. He took a deep breath and glanced at Kabaji.

"Here it goes," he said, handing his tennis bag to Kabaji and jogging up the steps.

He paused looking down at the courts. There was a familiar looking ginger-haired guy, probably the same age as him, playing tennis against Akira Kamio. He jumped to reach a lob and smashed it.

The ball flew so fast to the courts it was impossible to see until it landed.

_It was that Yamabuki guy!_ Atobe realized suddenly. _Sengo… Se… Sengoku! Kiyosumi Sengoku of Yamabuki!_

Atobe felt his confidence level fall from 'through the roof' to 'center of the earth' as An went over to Sengoku and shook his hand. Her voice floated over to him.

"Great job!"

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Sengoku had been talked into playing tennis by perky girl named An Tachibana when he had come down to the street courts two weeks ago and had been coming back every night since. He'd actually begun driving down to the city with his father at eight in the morning.

He had recognized her as the girl who always cheered for Fudomine, but was unaware she was Kippei Tachibana's younger sister. He had wanted head towards the shops when he saw the other people there, but she had called him down.

While Sengoku did enjoy looking at almost all girls, he felt he wasn't looking at her in the same way. His usually reaction to most girls was 'She's _hot_!' Or 'She's got a nice butt…' Well, he didn't look at any of his friends who were girls that way, but… you know.

But when he saw An close up for the first time—seeing her intelligent eyes, sweet smile and smooth skin— his stomach tied in a knot. He felt he was crossing some invisible line by even being aloud to see her.

For once it wasn't, 'She's hot', 'Nice butt', 'Long stems' or 'Delightful rack.' The only thought it his mind at that moment was about the only complete sentence his mind had ever put together.

_She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen._

He knew he couldn't refuse it when she suggested he play Akira. It didn't really matter, he'd played Akira before, but he just wanted to see An cheer for his opponent. Did this mean he was in love?

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Atobe ran over to An from the stairway. He felt a little wounded, but maybe she was just friends with this guy! Maybe they were mortal enemies and she was going to break his wrist! But once she had shaken his hand, she let go and began talking to him and Akira.

"An!" Atobe said loudly as he stepped in front of Sengoku. "Hi!" He grinned at her.

"Hi Atobe," she said, giving him a forced smile. "Hi Kabaji-kun," she nodded at the other boy, who had walked over and stood next to Atobe. She thought he was so close for moral support.

Kabaji was next to Atobe just to see An refuse him up close.

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Please review!

-OFSI


	2. Challenge

**Chapter Two**

Atobe shook his head a little. _An and this Sengoku fellow were just friends, _he reassured himself, but he noticed how Sengoku avoided her gaze and stared at his feet.

He took the plunge.

"An—I mean, Miss Tachibana?" he tried to stop his voice from shaking, but it was extremely difficult. "I bought these for you." He handed her the tulips and thought he heard Kabaji snicker. But when he glanced at the boy, his face was perfectly composed.

"Thank you Atobe! Tullips are my favorite flowers," she smiled at him, and he felt is stomach flip a little.

"Mine too," he said, lamely. This wasn't going as planned. His stomach was fluttering and he was sweating a lot. "Erm… I know this really nice place called the Chat d'Noir. Would you… er… Would you like to have dinner there with me?"

Sengoku was surprised, but he saw An wasn't.

She sighed. "Atobe, I've told you this before. I _can't_ date you. I don't like you that way."

"Not a date!" said Atobe feeling himself desperately grabbing at straws. "Just—I just—I just want to give you _treat_. As, you know, _friends_ or something."

An placed the bundle of red flowers in his outstretched hand and his bony fingers closed around them.

"I-I see…" Atobe felt as though his brain was spinning. He grabbed Kabaji and pulled him towards the exit.

He heard the Sengoku fellow say to An, "Jeez, wasn't that a little harsh?"

"Why? He's an opponent!"

"So is he," said Akira, probably gesturing towards Sengoku.

"But—" An tried.

"Just give him a shot!" Sengoku couldn't believe the words he was saying. This girl should be _his_ not _Atobe's_.

"No!" An said, a little louder. Sengoku saw Atobe's shoulders hunch a little more.

"_I'm_ going to see if he's okay," now why did he say that? He could've hung out with An more, but he felt sort of sorry for Atobe. An said 'I told you before…' Did that mean the Hyotei captain had tried this more than once? His first reaction was _Why would you try to ask out a girl more than once? _Then he thought about An. He would ask he a million times just to go out as _friends_.

So he jogged after Atobe.

The two boys were already halfway down the concrete stairs, Atobe was still pulling Kabaji's sleeve. While Atobe looked ready to drown himself, Kababji seemed mildly _bored_. May be he always looked like that.

"Are you alright?" Sengoku asked, catching up to them.

Atobe stopped and turned towards him. "Are you An's boyfriend?" he asked, suspiciously. He looked him up and down with bloodshot eyes.

"Oh I wish!" Sengoku realized he'd said that a lot louder than he'd meant to. Atobe seemed to have already figured out an opinion of him and turned, taking Kababji with him.

"Come on Kabaji. Let's go home."

"Usu."

"Hey wait!" said Sengoku, following them.

Atobe stopped, looking irritated now. "What?" he said with more of his usual You're-Below-Me flair.

Sengoku took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about An being so rude. It was really wrong of her."

Atobe looked at him, perhaps reforming his opinion of Sengoku.

"Do you like An too?"

Rather taken aback, Sengoku turned scarlet. "I-I dunno. I only just met a couple weeks ago really…" He saw Atobe smirk.

"Come!" he said loudly, snapping his fingers. Sengoku followed, but only because he had said he would see if Atobe was okay.

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Some things make you feel really tiny in comparison.

That's what the Atobe house did for Sengoku.

Atobe allowed Sengoku to pop into his father's restaurant to tell him where they were going. His father seemed shocked, but said it was fine, but could he meet who was driving them there? Atobe sighed and whipped out a Razor cell phone and pressed one of the buttons.

"Fairweather?... Yes… yes… SHUT UP!... Yes… Look, I need you to talk to someone… Uh-huh?... Here," he handed the phone to Sengoku's father.

"Hello?" he spoke to the man for a while. Finally he said, "How about you pick them up here… No… No I don't want my son walking around in the dark and I'm surprised you let your million dollar-charge walk around the streets of Tokyo by himself!… Oh…" he spotted Kabaji, who had coughed when he said 'by himself'. Mr. Sengoku mouthed 'Sorry!'

He gave Fairweather the address, and they waited.

After about five minutes, the bell of the restaurant tinkled and a large, muscled man with dark skin and a shaved head came in. He bowed to Sengoku's father, who jerked his head in return, and then to the three boys. Sengoku decided it felt really cool to have adults bow to _you_ instead of _you_ bowing to _them_. He even called him 'Sengoku-_sama_' which was even more awesome.

The boys climbed into the limo and they headed off. They drove down the streets of Tokyo and right past Redwood, Sengoku's neighborhood. He was mildly confused when they passed through the gates to Oakwood and past several huge houses. He knew they were big, but not quite _this_ big! It was like Redwood was filled with little cupcakes, and Oakwood was filled with enormous wedding cakes. Very Frank Lloyd Wright inspired wedding cakes. The floors stuck out at different levels like a Frank Lloyd Wright house, but these were at least several floors larger than any house of Frank Lloyd Wright. Of course, a few houses had an older touch, but nothing earlier than a 1920s design.

Thus, he was surprised when they passed through the gates to get to the Atobe house and the house was smooth brick with no layers sticking out. It was more like a manor really. Or maybe a chateau. It was long and curved—on the sides, the house came forward. Sengoku thought from above the house would look like a large U.

The gravel crunched underneath the tires and Fairweather pulled up to the front door.

Sengoku stepped out of the limo, amazed by the vastness of the manor. The hedges that separated lawn from the people next door gave the feeling that they had stepped from Tokyo-gated community to the hills of France or England. It was like some set for _Pride And Prejudice_. Maybe that bit with that party where Lizzie dances with Darcy.

Atobe pushed open the front door, slipped of his shoes and handed them to the butler. The butler handed him a pair of soft white slippers in return.

"Get some for the these two as well," said Atobe as Sengoku struggled out of his mismatched, too-small sneakers. Well, one was too small, the other was too big, but they were near to the same colors so it wasn't _that_ embarrassing.

The main hall was decorated in reddish-brown wood. The plush carpet was a lush scarlet and the oak staircase could house Bette Davis and it wouldn't have seemed unusual.

They walked up stairs and down hallways, all seemed to be decorated in the reddish-brown colors, with the (not so) occasional painting. Finally, after climbing the fifth set of stairs, Atobe turned the brass handles on one of the doors.

Inside was a _huge_ bedroom. The walls were bright white but everything else was in various shades of violet, including the computer, which was sitting on a desk near the window. Sengoku could see through an open door, a large en suite bathroom, decorated in pale shades of purple.

For once, Sengoku wished his room wasn't beige, but that it was something exciting, like violet.

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Kabaji leaned against the burgundy walls of the hallway. He'd been sent out of Atobe's room about half an hour ago. At least, he thought it was half an hour. His watch had stopped at about four o'clock.

He felt guilty for the things he had thought earlier. Atobe was his only friend and thinking things like that was just… sort of like… betrayal.

He had probably thought those things because he had only slept three hours last night. It was taking its toll now. He rubbed his fingers through his thick hair. The damage had been done by those thoughts; he was now feeling guilty enough to apologize for something Atobe didn't even know he'd done.

He glanced at his watch again before he remembered it wasn't working. He sank onto the plush rug. Atobe would probably take a while.

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Atobe looked through the keyhole.

"Okay, he's relaxed. We can start talking," he said, and sat down across from Sengoku.

"Why'd we wait thirty minutes so that he'd relax?" asked Sengoku, twirling a ginger lock of hair around his finger.

"So he wouldn't listen in," said Atobe, brushing some of his hair off his forehead. "Anyway, you're Sengoku of Yamabuki right?"

"Yes."

"Hm… And you fancy An?"

"I guess…"

"Even though you only met her recently?"

"Yes…?"

A smile spread over Atobe's face.

"_I_ have an idea, opponent."

"Opponent?" Sengoku felt very confused. Sure, Atobe was his opponent in tennis, but only if they played against each other. He didn't really know Atobe that well outside of a court.

"Yes, _opponent_," Atobe continued, smirking. He seemed to recover quickly from being dumped. "We shall battle for An's love. We'll compete in several activities, _none of them being tennis_. Let's see who take the upper hand in dancing and boxing!"

Sengoku felt himself sizzle. He could hear the back of his mind say _Don't go after the bait! Don't go after the bait! _You_ know you're best in boxing! Don't go after the bait!_ But he went after it anyway.

"_You_? _Box_? Pah! Let's see who beats who in cooking and running!"

"I'll beat your ass off in riding!"

"I kick your butt in…" Sengoku paused, thinking things over for a second. "Shouldn't we just keep these down to what we could do to help girls, or protect them?"

Atobe considered this. "You're right." He stood up and pulled out a leather bound notebook from one of the deep purple bookshelves. He began scribbling a list in loopy cursive. Sengoku moved over next to him and read the writing. After Atobe wrote three things down he passed the list to Sengoku and he printed three things in rounded letters.

Atobe read it over. "Boxing, dancing, stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor), cooking, cleaning and budget creating." He turned to Sengoku. "Budget creating? What kind of skill is that?"

"I forgot the word for it," said Sengoku. "You plan how much money you should spend on certain things."

"Oh," Atobe looked at the two words again. "Who needs a skill like that?"

Sengoku rolled his eyes. "Most 'commoners' do. We'd work with the average commoner monthly salary."

Atobe nodded, skill looking a little confused. He soon regained his usual haughty composure. "Well, opponent, how about you sleep over here for a week for our activities." He pointed to a large couch.

Sengoku thought about it. "I sleep at your house for the first three, then you sleep over at mine for the last three. Three days at each house."

Atobe nodded. "We start in a week."

"Winner gets to ask out An without the other interfering," said Sengoku.

"What if there's a tie?" asked Atobe. Neither had thought of this, so it took Sengoku a while to answer.

"We have Kabaji think of another challenge that we can do at his house," he said finally.

They shook hands. Little did they know that this agreement would change their lives forever.


	3. This Could Be the Start

**Chapter Three**

Sengoku was glad his father and mother had agreed to let him sleep over at the Atobe's. However, he was not glad that he had to wait until five PM on Monday for Atobe's chauffer to pick him and take him to 'the manor'. They had promised to each other not to try and ask out An until their competition was over, but what if Atobe broke his promise?

He remembered their trips to the coffee shop, Sakura & Tonbo, on Thursday through Saturday. On Thursday they met in the café because Atobe realized he would need to know if Sengoku had any allergies, on Friday because he thought Sengoku ought to know what he should pack and on Saturday because they were both there at the same time.

On Saturday they both sat at the same table, Kabaji wasn't there, which was different from the other two meetings. Sengoku poured sugar into his mug of coffee and Atobe slowly sipped his Chai tea, fascinated.

After dumping half the sugar pot into the black liquid, Sengoku dropped in several chocolates. Next the cream was dumped in, quickly changing the color from the darkest of browns to the lightest of tans. Sengoku closed his eyes and took a sip.

"Ah!" his eyes snapped back open.

Atobe raised an eyebrow and drank some more of his spicy tea. "Do you always drink coffee like that?"

Sengoku nodded and rank some more.

"You'll love the way the cook make hot chocolate!" said Atobe, sitting up a little straighter. "He uses, like, seventy percent cocoa and puts all those little marshmallows in it, then drops in this rich dark chocolate and then puts on this mountain of fresh whipped cream. It is, like, the most delicious thing ever! You'll have so much fun at my house…" Atobe continued to chatter, but Sengoku was no longer listening.

_Fun?_ he wondered. _Why is this supposed to be fun?_

Sengoku now stared out the window again. Why weren't they there yet?

It seemed like hours, but finally his watch gave a small _beep_ as the numbers changed from 4:59 to 5:00 and the doorbell rang.

Sengoku nearly fell several times while running down the stairs to answer the door, but his mother beat him to it.

"Is Sengoku-sama here?" asked a deep voice he recognized as Fairweather's.

"You mean Kiyosumi?" asked his mother.

"Yes, madam" said Fairweather. "Is he here?"

"Yes!" Sengoku ran up behind is mother and bowed quickly to Atobe buff chauffer. "I'll get my stuff really fast."

"Let me," said Fairweather, following Sengoku when his mother let him though.

Fairweather carried Sengoku's roll along suitcase and tennis bag and placed them in the boot of the car. He was truly grateful that the boy didn't pack like Atobe.

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Atobe was sitting at the end of the banister and listening to his iPod when Sengoku entered. He looked up as the front doors open and grinned. It wasn't a smirk; it was actually a genuine smile as though he'd been looking forward to Sengoku's arrival.

He pressed pause on his iPod and pulled out his Earbuds. "Hey opponent. It's too late for boxing tonight, but we can still have dinner with my parents."

Sengoku looked around. "Are they here?"

"Well, not _yet_. Mum will be home in an hour from yoga and dad will be home from France by seven thirty so he'll be about thirty minutes late but…" Atobe glanced at his watch.

"_France_?" Sengoku said, obviously shocked.

Atobe looked a little confused by Sengoku's shock. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "So, do you wanna play video games or something?"

Sengoku shrugged. "Sure."

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Atobe's mother called him while they were playing Stars Wars: Pod Racing. He paused the game, stood up and took the phone from the tray the butler was holding.

"Hello?" he said in a voice slightly higher pitched than his own. It was the sort of voice Sengoku put on while speaking to relatives he didn't know very well. "Hi mummy!..." Sengoku saw a look of disappointment spread over the other boy's face. "Are you sure?... You can't cancel it?... Oh… What about daddy?... Oh... Alright then… Bye mummy… Bye."

Atobe lightly placed the phone back on the receiver and gestured for the butler to leave. Once the heavy wooden door had closed, he sat back down onto the two-inch thick, white carpet.

Atobe's TV/Game room (Sengoku could barely believe he had his own bathroom, but his own TV room too?) was decorated in white and black with pieces of modern furniture. _This_ seemed more like a room you'd find in one of the Frank Lloyd Wright-like cakes. The people on the built in enormous flat screen remained motionless.

Sengoku watched Atobe as he said quietly; "Mummy won't be joining us for dinner."

_As if that was a big loss,_ Sengoku thought and was going to say it, but then he saw Atobe's sad face.

"She has a friend she has to visit in New York City so she can't come tonight," Atobe bit his lip and looked at his hands. After a few minutes of silence he shook his head and recovered himself.

"Want to keep playing?" he asked Sengoku, and the ginger-haired boy nodded. He was a little speechless.

This was the first time he'd seen the Hyotei captain look upset, and he'd watched the amazing Tezuka vs. Atobe match. One thought kept running through Sengoku's mind, _How many times has Atobe been told 'No' by the people in his life?_ He'd never looked very close to anyone in Hyotei, except Kabaji, and to Sengoku that seemed like a servant-master relationship. If An kept refusing him…

No wonder Atobe had smiled that way when Sengoku arrived. For once he hadn't been stood up.

Sengoku glanced at the screen, Atobe was on his third lap and Sengoku was his first. He jumped and began to race.

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Atobe sat at one end of the long dark wood table in the dining room and pushed his food around his plate. Sengoku had already devoured the entrée of salad and caviar, but the cook was waiting until Atobe was finished to bring out the next course. He glanced at his watch, eight o'clock. Atobe's father still wasn't there, nor had he called.

Finally, at eight-thirty, the doorbell rang.

Atobe jumped up and ran to the door. Sengoku heard an excited "Daddy!" He walked into the main hall.

Atobe had his arms around a tall, slim man. His hair was prematurely gray, like his son's, but his skin was far paler. He rumpled Atobe's hair. "Okay Keigo. I've got to head up to my office now."

Atobe looked confused. "What about dinner?"

"Sweetie, I have a lot of work to do tonight and I'm very tired. Maybe I'll join you tomorrow."

So Mr. Atobe headed back upstairs, leaving a disappointed Keigo.

"Come on opponent," said Atobe, quickly getting over it.

Sengoku was surprised at his quick healing abilities. Atobe never brought it up again until very late that night when they were both laying in bed. He had had the butler unfold the periwinkle couch in his room to reveal a large comfy bed. Atobe slept in his circular bed, the white duvet thrown back in favor of dark purple sheets and a lightweight quilt.

Sengoku had himself wrapped up in the covers, but he couldn't fall asleep. He felt sort of relieved when Atobe called out through the darkness of his room.

"Sengoku?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you rather sleep in a guest bedroom? Because you can if you want, I just thought it'd be more fun to share my room. But I could call up the butler right now if you want to sleep in the red room…"

There it was again, _fun_. Why did Atobe want this to be fun?

"I'm fine in here," said Sengoku. "Are we going to box tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said Atobe. He paused a second and then continued, "I'd hoped daddy could help us a bit, he was boxing champion of his university, but he says he's going to Rome tomorrow evening. He will have dinner with us though."

"What's his problem?" blurted Sengoku. He clamped his hands over his mouth, but Atobe had heard.

"What do you mean?" he sounded a little shaky.

"Well… Just sort of, standing you up like that," Sengoku struggled to explain without being too rude. "You're mum did it too…"

Atobe was quiet for a long time. "He's busy… He can't help it. Mum just…" He couldn't work out how to end that sentence. His mother didn't have a job. All he could do was assume good faith. "She just forgets to tell me about stuff. It's not her fault. She and Daddy have been fighting a lot lately—" He cut himself off.

Why was he telling Sengoku this? He didn't really _know_ Sengoku. They opponents. Enemies. He couldn't, as Tezuka charmingly put it, let his guard down.

"Good night opponent."

Sengoku thoughts whirled around. He wondered what it'd be like to have parents who fought and never talked to you. His parents always got along, they only argued about things like food preparation and silly stuff like that. But they always made up.

It only hit him when he was drifting into unconsciousness that Atobe had called out to Sengoku, not to his opponent.

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**Okay! Sorry it took me a bit to update. I forgot yesterday. :S I probably won't go with my original plan of updating once a week to whenever I feel like it. Go randomness!**

**Please review since I love getting them. **

**-OFsI**


	4. WouldBe Daddy's Boy

**Chapter Four**

Sengoku cheered for himself.

"Gimme a S! Gimme an E! Gimme an N! Gimme a G! Gimme an O! Gimme a K! Gimme a U! What does that spell?"

Atobe grimaced, checking himself for bruises. "Sengoku."

Sengoku was happy. For someone who seemed so conceited normally, Atobe sure was a good sport in boxing, especially for someone who'd been beaten so fast.

As they were walking down the hallways from the gym (Well, it _had been_ a gym. Atobe had gotten a boxing ring set up so they could fight.), Atobe brought up the third challenge on the list, stock buying.

"I think we should do that tomorrow. That way we can sell or whatever on Wednesday and work out how much we both made."

Sengoku nodded.

Atobe continued, "I'm also going to give you some money to use on there. I'll be using the same amount, don't give me that look!" he said when Sengoku gave him a suspicious, slightly angry gaze.

They kept walking, a silence enveloping them. Finally, Atobe glanced at his watch and spoke.

"Kabaji will be coming over in about twenty minutes. How about we shower?"

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Sengoku stepped out of the steamy cream-colored spare bathroom. He felt like he'd melted. He was sweaty, and felt not entirely dried off. He walked up and down hallways trying to find Atobe's room. He couldn't even remember which level the room was on or even which level he was on.

He was trying to remember how many flights of stairs they had gone up that first day and continuing to walk down another red-brown hallway with maroon walls. He saw one of the heavy doors was cracked. Maybe Atobe was letting the steam out of his room. He peeked through the crack of the door.

There was the tall, pepper-haired Mr. Atobe. His arms were wrapped around a tall blond woman. His lips were pressed into her neck and she moaned with pleasure as his hands traveled up and down her body. Her chest seemed a lot larger than most of the women Sengoku knew. Same with her butt. All of her seemed toned and tan, and Sengoku wondered why she with this pale, middle-aged man when she looked about twenty-something.

"Opponent!"

Sengoku slammed the door as he saw Atobe walking towards him.

"He-hello Atobe…"

"Why were you looking in there?" asked Atobe. "That's daddy's office…"

"It was just open so I just peeked in…" Sengoku hated lying. He was horrible at it. His eyes went all shifty and his voice quavered, but he didn't want Atobe to be upset again. "He's not doing anything interesting though! Just… working…" He gave a high-pitched laugh and shrugged.

Atobe looked concerned for Sengoku's sanity.

"I just need to go in there for a second—" Atobe made for the door but Sengoku blocked him. "Get out of my way. It's just about borrowing money."

"How about you ask him at dinner!" said Sengoku, hoping to God Atobe would back off.

God was obviously feeling like being nice to him that day because Atobe shrugged.

"Want to wait in the main hall for Kabaji? He'll arrive in five minutes," he pulled his iPod and two sets of Earbuds out of his pocket.

So they sat on the steps and listened to Atobe's iPod. After about 4 minutes, Sengoku wasn't sure he could stand anymore _High School Musical 1 _and_ 2_ or _Hairspray_ songs, but that seemed to be all that was on Atobe's iPod.

Sengoku _hated_ _Hairspray_. But at least the iPod never played his least favorite song from that musical, _You Can't Stop the Beat_.

Atobe was tapping his foot and whispering along with Zac Efron. "_Did you ever—blame the one who never blamed you? I don't ever—wanna live a lie again! I don't wanna play this game if I can't play it my way…_"

Fifteen minutes later, Kabaji _still_ hadn't arrived. Sengoku felt like hitting his head on the banister. From _Welcome to the '60s_ to _Bop to the Top_. He couldn't stand so much happy. He remembered what happened in Mr. Atobe's office when he glanced at his 'opponent'.

The obsessive cheery-ness of the iPod was probably to make up for the _complete lack_ of it in his life.

----------

It took Kabaji another thirty minutes to arrive. He was breathing heavily, heart thudding, when he rang the doorbell. It was raining heavily, so he was soaked it the skin, his hair clinging to his forehead in large, curly chunks.

The butler answered the door and Kabaji handed him his drenched raincoat. It hadn't been any help.

Atobe jumped up and so did the ginger-haired boy. Kabaji couldn't quite remember what his name was, but his heart sunk at the sight of him sharing Atobe's iPod. He was using the spare Earbuds Atobe usually saved for Kabaji.

Atobe squeezed him. "Wow Kabaji, you're drenched."

As if he didn't know.

"Do you want a robe? Or maybe those clothes you left a couple weeks ago? Com'mon!" he ran up stairs and Kabaji and Sengoku followed.

Segoku couldn't figure out why Kabaji kept glancing over at him. The looks sent his direction were a cross between worried glance and an angry glare. Sengoku tried to convince himself that Kabaji was worried because he could get sick from running through the rain, and he was angry because he was wet.

Atobe rummaged through his drawers and found an old pair of Kabaji's jeans and a large t-shirt. "There you go. Those are from that one time in April."

Kabaji nodded and walked into Atobe's bathroom.

----------

As they lay in bed Sengoku was thinking. Did he even know how to buy stock? He knew the basics of how it worked, but that was it. Atobe seemed to know a lot more than him.

Then Sengoku decided he had no chance.

"Hey Atobe?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Hm?" was Atobe's response.

"Can I forfeit the buying stocks thing?"

Atobe sat up. They were lying next to each other in Atobe's bed so Kabaji could have the couch. When Atobe had suggested this Kabaji gave Sengoku another look and nodded. This look had a new taste, jealousy.

"Why do you want to forfeit?"

"Well," Sengoku bit his lip. "I don't really know anything about the stock market."

Atobe lay back down and shrugged. "I guess."

Sengoku half-smiled. "Thanks."

Atobe seemed more agreeable since dinner that night. Mr. Atobe had been perfectly sociable, asking Sengoku questions about his family and his father's restaurant. He responded as evenly as he could, but never made eye contact.

Kabaji spoke to Mr. Atobe fairly openly. He was still was rather quiet, but when he spoke, he spoke in an even, pleasing way. His voice was lilted with a mild Indian accent. Sengoku was surprised to hear him say more then 'Usu', but he supposed Kabaji just didn't like talking to people he didn't know well.

Sengoku stared at the white ceiling of Atobe's room. He and Atobe were silent for a long time.

"Atobe?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Kabaji's asleep?"

Atobe sat up and looked at Kabaji's sleeping body. "Kabaji?"

No answer.

"Kabaji, if you're awake, please answer."

No answer.

Atobe lay back down. "He's asleep."

Sengoku turned towards Atobe. "May I ask you something about Kabaji?"

"Shoot."

"Kabaji has been giving me all these weird looks since he saw us sharing your iPod. Is he… Is he gay?"

Atobe looked at Sengoku, his face was barely desernable through the dark, but he was smiling.

"I don't really care. Kabaji can do whatever he wants. I think he's jealous of you because I'm letting you sleep next to me and use my iPod. Kabaji is my best friend, nobody can change that, but he thinks sometimes that I might want a different best friend and that I'll ditch him. Kabaji's really insecure because he's so shy. He told me once that I was his first friend. And you know what? He's mine."

Sengoku was silent. He couldn't think of anyway to respond to that. Who was his best friend? He didn't really think of anyone as a secret telling, never-leaving best friend. He only had friends. 'Just' friends.

And so he said that next words without thinking.

"Do you want to be my best friend?"

Atobe looked at Sengoku. He grinned. "Sure, you're my _other_ best friend."

Not '2nd-to-best' friend. Just another best friend, equal to Kabaji.

Sengoku smiled.

----------

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**What ho, what ho, what ho? Sorry, feeling a little hyper this morning. I… didn't get enough sleep… ::coughs uncomfortably::**

**ANYWAY! Please review because I am updating and I ADORE getting feedback. I even love those one liner reviews like "Oh my God! Please update!" In fact, those are some of my favorites!**

**-OFsI**

**(Ps, I love the bit in this chapter where they sit around and question Kabaji's sexuality. So mean!)**


	5. Dance Dance

**Chapter Five**

Atobe: 1 strike

Sengoku: 2 strikes

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

----------

Sengoku sat on a wooden chair next to Atobe's long, thin cousin,  
Aiko. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a bun. She was to be Sengoku's dance partner.

On the other end of the room were three judges Atobe had gotten to come. They all looked rather stern. Two men, one woman.

Atobe led Sengoku's friend, Al (Alexandra), onto the dance floor. He nodded at Kabaji, who stood near the speakers. Kabaji pressed a button, and inserted a CD.

"_Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine…_" Sengoku sat up. Was Atobe really going to couples dance to The Killers?

Atobe waited a moment and began a quick swing, moving his body in just the right way so that Al could follow. He danced quickly, barely touching the ground. He managed to make Al spin without once showing her. He pulled her close, then pushed her away.

"_I never… I never… I never…_"

Sengoku glanced over at Aiko. She had one eyebrow raised, but other then that showed no emotion. He turned his gaze back towards the judges. 7.5, 8, 7. All in all, Atobe had gotten 22.5 points out of 30. Not bad.

Most definitely better then what Sengoku would probably get considering he didn't know jack about couples dancing. He could only dance after he'd had the life choreographed out of him. Still, he kept his chin up and led out Aiko.

Kabaji made a gesture for him to come over and choose a song. Sengoku looked at the selection. Most definitely _not_ anything from _Hairspray_. He'd been Link Larkin in a production by the Tokyo Teen Theater Troop in eighth grade. He'd been okay, but he would never do it again, especially with what his Tracy had done.

He picked _Hum Hallelujah_ by Fall Out Boy and walked back over to Aiko.

It was embarrassing. Sengoku, when left to his own devices, did weird free style and small amounts of old dances he knew. Aiko, tried to follow him, but to no avail. He was off time anyway.

But his score was better than he thought it would be, 5.5, 6, 5. So all in all, he'd gotten 16.5 out of 30. Atobe was smiling. He would win this. He hadn't gone to dance lessons just to be called gay fifty thousand times.

Atobe and Sengoku decided to choose each other's single dancing songs. Sengoku looked at the CDs in front of him, trying to think which one would be the most difficult.

Sengoku picked up a brightly colored CD. The illustration on it showed some sort of multi-colored explosion. The letters M-I-K-A flew out of the pink and green clouds. Sengoku grinned; He knew which song would be _perfect_. It was a song that would be difficult to dance to for the speed and melody.

Atobe looked over his shoulder and Sengoku said "_Lollipop_". Atobe smiled.

He sat down for a second to put on tap shoes. This disconcerted Sengoku a bit, but he decided it was nothing. Atobe would probably win anyway.

Atobe stood still for a bit, but the moment the first call of "_Suckin' too hard on your lollipop, well love's gonna get you down!_" his head moved, and so did his feet. His shoes snapped over the drums of the song. He spun, he tapped, he jumped. Sengoku saw several jazz moves in there too.

He was amazed and knew he couldn't win, especially with Atobe choosing the song. He would've forfeited, but Atobe had said that they should only get one forfeit each, so Sengoku had already used his.

All Sengoku could do was watch Atobe's amazingly fit body, flash into about fifty different positions in a second. He even did a handspring. A handspring. In tap shoes. On a polished wooden floor. He slid on knees at the end, perfectly in time.

Damn.

Atobe walked over to the CDs and looked at them.

"Kabaji," he asked, flipping a Mamas and the Papas CD in his fingers. "What CD did Sengoku look like he disliked the most?"

"The _Hairspray_ Soundtrack."

"Well, give him _You Can't Stop the Beat_," Atobe grinned. Sengoku could last through a three of four-minute song. He certainly couldn't last through a five and a half minute song.

He did feel a little guilty when he saw the horror on Sengoku's face when he told him which song it was. Atobe remembered what he said last night.

"_Do you want to be my best friend?_"

"_Sure, you're my _other_ best friend._"

But this was a competition! He never went easy on Kabaji during a Hyotei intra-squad match. He wouldn't go easy on Sengoku, especially with An at stake. Also, he didn't even know Sengoku that well!

Sengoku stood there, looking terrified. He could barely see the plain dance room. The white walls and pale floorboards seemed to melt and he was on stage in front of a good portion of Tokyo waiting for his Tracy Turnblad to get on stage.

Then his feet began to move. He remembered every movement. He was singing above the recording in his head, above Zac Efron, Amanda Bynes, and John Travolta. He was in front of seven people in a dance hall in reality. In his mind he was dancing in front of more than a hundred people and a seventeen-year-old singing over Queen Latifah.

His mind began to speed back. Back to that day, the most important performance, the largest audience. "_Ever since this old world began a woman found if she could shake it she could shake up a man…_"

Hearing this song again, dancing to it, it stung. It more than stung, it carved out huge chunks of flesh around his stomach, but he continued.

"_Ever since we first saw the light a man and woman liked to shake it on a Saturday night and so I'm gonna shake and shimmy it with all my might today…_"

He had had to replace Seaweed too because he hadn't come on either.

"_Ever since we first saw the sun a man and woman like to shake it when the day is done but we're gonna shake and shimmy it and have some fun for today!... You can't stop the beat…_"

When the song ended, he seemed to snap out of his daydream. He looked over at the judges. 9, 8.5, 9.

"E-excuse me…" Sengoku stuttered and ran out of the room. He barely made it to the bathroom in time.

----------

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**Okay, despite how absolutely… weird this chapter is, it's probably one of my favorite in this fanfiction.**

**To Fate Lane: I know what you mean about Sengoku liking An, but, hey! It's random. Also I just got this image for the ending and I had to write this. (Of course, I can't say what the image was now, but I will probably tell you at the end of the fic. :D**

**Thank you guys for your support! **

**-Old Fiat**


	6. Cooking and Collapsing

**Chapter Six**

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

----------

Sengoku leaned his head back against the headrest. He and Atobe were being driven to his house. Atobe seemed excited.

"You did an awesome job! If it was just singles dance, you would've won," Atobe jabbered. Sengoku was sort of surprised to hear the boy say something nice.

The limo pulled into the gravel driveway and Sengoku stepped, zombie like, out of the back seat. His mother jumped up when they walked in.

"Kiyosumi!" she wrapped her arms around him. Then she saw Atobe. "Hello sweetheart, what's your name?"

Atobe was a little shocked but said calmly and smoothly, "Keigo Atobe, Mrs. Sengoku. I'm Kiyosumi's friend."

She raised one eyebrow. "Well, the lord knows my son could use a friend." She then turned to Sengoku. "I need to talk to you about something," and she led him into the kitchen.

"What is it mom?" asked Sengoku, settling across his mom at the kitchen table. All he really wanted to do at that moment was sit down in one of the beige armchairs and relax.

She sighed and looked him in the eye. "Sengoku, me and your father have been having a really tough year. You know that, right?"

He nodded, remembering the basket his mother put her bills in overflowing onto the floor in January.

"Well, your Uncle Oswald arranged for us to go down to his spa for a week starting tomorrow. But it's only for your father and me. We want to know if you would be comfortable staying here with Granny…"

Sengoku's mind sparked into action. He couldn't have Granny staying here with Atobe. She could barely take care of herself; let a lone two teenage boys. He glanced into the living room and spotted Fairweather bringing in his and Atobe's bags.

"Mom, you know Atobe is going to sleepover for a few days, right?"

She looked in the living room.

"Yes, you spoke to me about it on Saturday."

"Well, maybe I could get Fairweather to stay over! He's like Atobe's bodyguard, look how muscled he is! Plus, see the bump in his jacket? I bet its gun! He'd be perfect!" Sengoku would never know where this sudden burst of energy came from, but it was certainly handy. He looked at his mother's face. She was obviously considering it.

"How about we talk to Fairweather _himself_ about this arrangement, okay?" she stood up and walked over to the chauffer.

She explained the situation to the enormous man. He nodded in understanding.

"Of course I will stay to watch your son while Atobe-sama is here."

Atobe raised an eyebrow. He was obviously confused.

"Why did your parents have money problems?" he asked, leaning towards Sengoku.

He shrugged. "My dad was in a car accident and it cost a lot to get him the help he needed. They're all right now though."

So they help Fairweather lug the luggage upstairs, then allowed him to go home and pack a few of his own objects.

----------

It was hot and sticky the next morning, but Sengoku was up the second his alarm clock began to buzz. He jumped off the couch bed and ran into the kitchen. His mother was still there thankfully.

Mrs. Sengoku put a bagel on a plate and put it in front of him. "Eat. Me and your father leave in thirty minutes."

Sengoku began to eat. He was surprised to see Fairweather at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him. Sengoku was usually the first one up in his house, waking up at 5:15 everyday in the school year and 6:15 in the summer. He knew his parents would be up before him today, but he wasn't expecting the huge Fairweather to be awake as well.

Atobe wondered in, rubbing the back of his head.

"G'morning…" he said, sitting down at the kitchen table and looking around the white and beige room. His normally straight-ish hair was curling in little spirals.

He looked blankly at the bagel Mrs. Sengoku gave him for about five minutes before she said loudly, "_Eat_."

It was hectic twenty-five minutes, his parent checking all their bags and running up and down stairs. It seemed like hours passed, but finally Sengoku stood on the lawn waving as his parents drove off to the airport.

The house seemed very quiet when he came back in.

Atobe, who was more awake, pulled out the slip of paper. Sengoku saw two lines going across Budget Creating.

"I'm going to forfeit BC," said Atobe with a smile. "I don't really have a chance against you so…" He shrugged.

"You wanna take showers?" suggested Sengoku. Atobe nodded.

However, the latter was quite surprised to see the Sengokus only had one bathroom. So they took turns. Sengoku sat on the couch watching _Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure_ with Fairweather while waiting. It was odd to see a six foot-plus, beefed up chauffer/bodyguard chuckling at two teenage boys saying "Excellent!" and "Most non-heinous!"

Atobe was disgusted when he saw them.

"This movie _sucks_," he said, toweling his hair.

Sengoku shrugged. "It was in the DVD player, I dunno why though. My mom doesn't like it all that much, I think this copy used to belong to my older brother."

"Why is it in there?" asked Atobe, confused. "I don't see your older brother around.

"He's in university," said Sengoku, hoisting himself off the couch. "I guess mom felt like torturing herself. I like it too you know."

Atobe raised an eyebrow as Fairweather chuckled at Napoleon running around '_Waterloop_'.

"Whatever," he said, shaking his head. "Get in the shower."

"Way ahead of you," said Sengoku, turning around for a second as he walked up stairs and flashed a white smile at Atobe.

----------

It took a while for Sengoku to talk a near-by uncle, a friend of his father's and an acquaintance of his own to come over to judge at seven that evening.

They started cooking at 4 o'clock and decided Atobe had an hour for oven usage, fifteen minutes to choose a recipe and fifteen minutes for non-oven work. Once Atobe finished, Sengoku would get to work.

When seven came around, there were two extraordinary meals on the dining room table. There were only small portions of each meal, since the judges would only test each dish, not eat the whole thing.

Sengoku told them on the phone not to side with him just because they knew him more than they knew Atobe.

First to arrive was his father's friend, Jacque, a tall dark man who spoke Japanese with a thick French accent. Then his Uncle Harold, who appeared nearly identical to Sengoku, drove up in his black convertible.

The last was Sengoku's acquaintance. The doorbell rang as the waited. Sengoku went to answer it and Atobe stayed in the dining room so he could entertain the judges.

"Sengoku-san!"

Atobe choked a little on his water. He knew that voice and he hoped to God it wasn't him.

But of course, God didn't side with Atobe. God never seemed to side with Atobe.

"Hi Momo! Come on in, we're about to start."

The Seigaku starter followed Sengoku into the cream-and-beige dining room. Atobe smiled as best he could when he entered.

"Hello Momoshiro!" said Atobe, shaking his hand with the grace of someone who knows how to pretend not to hate someone.

Then they got started.

Atobe had made roasted chicken, a green salad and a crumble. The crumble was probably the best of all of them. The breadcrumbs made a perfect top coating over black berries and sour apples. Sengoku was quite impressed.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked Atobe, who looked rather pleased with himself.

"My Grandma used to make all these tasty deserts before she died. She taught me some of them when I was little and that was always my favorite. I loved the idea of make something sweet out of bits of stale bread. It's just so… _commoner_."

Sengoku took a deep breath as the three men starting testing his meal.

It was an Indian meal; chicken tikka, garbanzo bean salad and mango lassies for dessert. He knew mango lassies couldn't really be counted as dessert since it's just a drink, but it was the best he could think of. It wasn't a very good curry either, but he hadn't had time to make another.

The judges conversed in the kitchen and Atobe and Sengoku looked at each other.

"May the best man win?" suggested Sengoku.

Atobe nodded, looking nervous for about the fist time in his life.

But he won.

Sengoku was surprised, but was a good sport. He shook Atobe's hand. Atobe was very excited. "That was my first time cooking chicken," he said, shakily.

"Well…" Sengoku didn't really know what to say. He looked at the other boy.

Sengoku had always wanted a whole army of people to fall back on, but that one time…

He choked a little on his water, and Atobe patted him on the back. Why was he thinking these things? But the thoughts wouldn't stop. They kept pouring into his mind like some horrible jelly—a jelly he had hoped never to taste again.

That one time was enough to make him not trust a single soul for the rest of his life. At least, it should be the rest of his life. Atobe was becoming the only person he really thought of as a fall back. Sure, he loved his parents, but when his father had been in the hospital last winter from a car accident, he'd become terrified of him dying. If his parents died, he wouldn't have anyone.

He looked again at Atobe who was waving goodbye to all the judges. Atobe trusted people who let him down hundreds of times, his parents for example. He really only had two people to fall back on.

The room suddenly felt sickeningly hot. Sengoku tried to breathe, but it felt like he was inhaling water—warm water at that. The room rocked beneath his feet and he tried to focus.

Atobe was walking over to him. He was across the living room and in the kitchen when Sengoku fainted. His body went limp and his head hit the wooden floors of the dining room with a _clunk_.

----------

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**Oh no! What will happen to Sensen? Here's a little preview of the next chapter!**

Something caught Atobe's eye. _Hairspray_ the date on it was early last summer.

He looked at Sengoku; he was walking back and forth in the dining room. Atobe pushed the video in the slot and pressed play.

Obviously it hadn't been rewound because it began at about the middle of musical.

"_It's gonna take cash to fill my tank! So let's crack open your piggy bank!_" Atobe watched with delight.

Wait… He knew the boy playing Link Larkin. Who was that?

**Ho ho ho! What will happen next? I'd love to hear predictions!**

**-OFsI**


	7. The Only Thing Better Than Hairspray

**Chapter Seven**

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

----------

"_Sengoku!_"

Cold water hit the ginger-haired boy's face and he sat up, gasping.

"Sengoku!" Atobe shook his shoulders. His face, normally arrogant, was twisted with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah…" Sengoku felt sick to his stomach. He opened his mouth and wretched—again. That was two days in a row.

Atobe stood up, a little grossed out. "Fairweather! Help!"

Fairweather came in, holding a cold cloth and placed over Sengoku's burning forehead. He and Atobe carried him into the bathroom. After setting him on the cold tile, Atobe began to run a bath.

Sengoku felt stupid just lying on the bathroom floor. He tried to sit up again, but the room spun as he did, so he fell back down again. Fairweather came back about fifteen minutes later and stripped off Sengoku's filthy clothes. He was embarrassed, but when he opened his mouth to say something about it all that came out of his mouth was a little groan. He was blushing like crazy, though his fever-flushed face probably covered it.

Fairweather and Atobe put him the bath. The warm water soothed his twisted stomach. The steam seemed to clear his mind. He breathed deeply and shut his eyes.

Atobe came back in. "I got you pajamas and some underwear," he said, depositing the pile of cotton clothes on the counter. "Fairweather, go clean up Sengoku's mess."

"I already have," said Fairweather, in his deep voice.

"Will you go chuck the food then?"

"Of course, Atobe-sama," he said and then left the room.

Atobe leaned on the edge on the bathtub. The steam was curling his gray hair, so he looked even stranger than usual. "Feeling better?"

Sengoku nodded, not wanting to speak.

A cold hand touched his forehead and his eyes snapped open.

"Not so feverish," said Atobe, putting both hands under his chin. "That's a good sign. You hit your head hard on the floor, so you'll feel pretty weird for a while."

They sat in silence until the phone rang and Fairweather came back upstairs holding the phone.

"It's Mrs. Sengoku, wishing to speak to Kiyosumi."

"I'll take it," said Atobe, taking the phone from Fairweather's large hand. "Mrs. Sengoku! This Atobe."

Sengoku sent Atobe a _Don't tell her I'm sick_ look. He nodded, and winked.

"No… No, he's using the bathroom right now. I can take down your number and have him call you back though," Atobe recalled his father's secretary saying something similar. He walked out of the bathroom and downstairs.

Sengoku finally got out of the bath about an hour later. Atobe helped him into his pajamas and they walked downstairs together. Fairweather offered to sleep on the couch, but Sengoku had waved him off. He and Atobe had slept on the fold out couch the night before and both of them felt pretty comfortable on it.

Atobe ran upstairs to change into his pale yellow pajamas, but he returned a few minutes later. Sengoku had gotten up to call his mother, so Atobe waited on the fold out. He looked at the stacks of videos in the shelf beneath the TV.

Something caught his eye. _Hairspray_ the date on it was early last summer.

He looked at Sengoku; he was walking back and forth in the dining room. Atobe pushed the video in the slot and pressed play.

Obviously it hadn't been rewound because it began at about the middle of musical.

"_It's gonna take cash to fill my tank! So let's crack open your piggy bank!_" Atobe watched with delight.

Wait… He knew the boy playing Link Larkin. Who was that? He glanced at Sengoku in the dining room again, then at the TV. It was Sengoku! His hair was dyed black and he was singing loudly and confidently.

So that was why he could dance to _You Can't Stop the Beat_ so well.

Sengoku hung up the phone and walked back into the living room. When he saw what Atobe was watching he got angry.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice sharp. Atobe looked at him. His pale face was contorted with rage. His eyes glistened slightly as he glanced at the screen.

"Do you want to watch something else?" asked Atobe, a little confused by this reaction—it was sort of overboard for the usual dislike of listening to a recording of yourself.

"Yes!" Sengoku harshly ejected the tape and shoved it back on to the shelf. "Let's watch—I dunno—_Four Weddings and a Funeral_."

Atobe raised an eyebrow. "Alright…"

Sengoku slammed the disk into the DVD player and sat through the ads without saying anything.

"I hate that musical," he said quietly. "I hate, hate, _hate_ it."

Atobe said nothing. _Hairspray _was his second-to-favorite musical.

Sengoku started the film and lay down under the covers.

The watched the movie without saying anything to each other. Fairweather came down at about eleven to inform them both he was going to bed. Sengoku nodded stiffly, not looking over at him. Atobe gave a small smile and said quietly "It's fine."

When the film ended and the credits began to roll, Sengoku shut off the TV.

"Do you mind sleeping with the kitchen light on?" he asked Atobe. His voice was cold.

Atobe nodded, even though the he was sure the light would keep him awake.

They both lay down in the bed. A horrible silence spread throughout the house.

"Sengoku?" he asked. Sengoku grunted in response. "Why do you hate _Hairspray_ so much if you played Link Larkin? You seemed really into on that tape."

Sengoku turned towards Atobe. He could tell the other boy wasn't trying to hurt him, but…

"I don't want to talk about it," he said softly.

"Why?"

Sengoku bit his lip. He did want to talk about it. Who else could he talk to about it? Atobe seemed to understand rejection better than anybody. Wouldn't he be the perfect confident?

"Promise you'll never repeat it?"

"Promise," said Atobe eagerly.

Sengoku started to speak.

"When I was in eighth grade I belonged to the Tokyo Teenage Theater Troop. Maybe you've heard of them." Atobe nodded. "And that summer we decided to do _Hairspray_. I was cast as Link Larkin, and my girlfriend was cast as Tracy Turnblad."

Atobe thought about it. "I think I saw the first performance."

Sengoku nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, we were all doing pretty good, me and Christy—that was the girl playing Tracy—were, you know, doing really well. We did a ton of performances, far more then secluded.

"But in late July we did our last performance. I was totally hyped up 'cause this should've been our best show. Also all these music agents were coming to… find fresh talent or something.

"But during the finally, you know, where Tracy comes down in spray can? Christy didn't come down! And the band started playing _You Can't Stop the Beat_ anyway, so I jumped forward and started singing the part Tracy should sing. It was horrible, everyone was laughing and stuff. And then Seaweed didn't run on with Penny so I sang that too. I was actually crying! _On stage_! I hadn't cried for ages!

"But even so, I would've been able to laugh about it later, if the worst thing hadn't happened. When I was looking for Christy with Jessica—the girl who played Penny—I heard someone talking softly from the costume closet, so I peeked in there. And… and…"

Sengoku was taking deep calming breaths.

"And Christy was in there making out with Paul," he bit his lip, tears in his eyes.

Atobe mulled this over in his mind.

"She caused you to be humiliated," he said, just for clarification. "Then she cheated on you?"

"Then she said, in front of the whole cast, that was a little git, who probably would've forced her to have sex with me, and some other stuff. I don't want to say a lot of it," Sengoku buried his face in his pillow.

It took him several minutes to calm down, and when he did, Atobe spoke.

"What a nasty, nasty, little girl."

Sengoku sat up, looking at him.

Atobe began to make a list of reasons why she was 'totally bonkers'. Sengoku even managed to giggle at some of them.

He felt better.

----------

**Here is the next chappy! I'm sorry it's late. I had to go to Chicago and then I was just lazy for several days. Ultra sorry. Here's a preview for chapter eight!**

"_-------- is the winner," said Fairweather plainly._

**MWAHAHAHAHA! By the way, the number of spaces has nothing to do with who won, so that won't be giving it away. Sorry!**

**Please review!**

**-Old Fiat**


	8. Clean Jealousy

**Chapter Eight**

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

----------

It took a while for Atobe and Sengoku to work out how to do the cleaning challenge. The challenge wasn't so hard; it was finding a good place to hold to that was the problem.

Eventually Fairweather walked past and, on hearing their conversation, said, "I have a two bedroom flat. Both of the rooms are equally messy, so you could hold it there."

Atobe looked at Sengoku. "That actually sounds pretty good."

Sengoku nodded and checked his watch. "We'll head over at noon. Whoever can make the biggest dent in the mess in thirty minutes wins."

"Fairweather can judge!" said Atobe, smiling up at him.

So at noon Fairweather drove them both over into the city, down towards the not-so-good side of Tokyo. Neither Atobe nor Sengoku had ever been down these streets. Atobe had his face pressed against the tinted window and Sengoku watched a teen in baggy sweatpants spray painted several dirty words on the brick walls of someone's apartment.

Fairweather parked the car in the parking lot behind a concrete block, which turned out to be an apartment house. They climbed up the steps to a plain blue door, which Fairweather unlocked. Then there was a short walk down a yellow and tan hallway to another blue door, this one with the number 16A.

----------

Atobe danced as he threw dirty clothes in the laundry basket. As usual, his iPod was all Zac Efron and various things associated with Zac Efron. After fifteen minutes, he had gotten everything off the floor.

He looked at the numbly green carpet and decided it could use a vacuum. He pulled in Fairweather's large, red Hoover and stared at the buttons on it. One had to turn it on. He fiddled with each of them. Finally, he pushed one on the back, and it began to roar.

Proud of himself, Atobe checked his watch and realized it'd taken him ten minutes to turn on the vacuum. He quickly began to push it about the room. It sucked up all the bits of dust, dirt and lint on the floor and when he finished, the carpet was as bright as spring grass.

Atobe smiled. _Beat _that_, Sengoku!_ He thought as he walked confidently out of the room.

Sengoku went into the neighboring bedroom. It took him about fifteen minutes to get everything off the floor and in it's proper place. Afterwards, he plugged in the vacuum cleaner and made sure to vacuum anything that needed vacuuming. Including the walls.

Fairweather, as you probably guessed, was sitting on his couch and happy that he got them to do his work for him.

Sengoku finished five minutes early, and left the room feeling sort of the way he did everyday.

----------

"Sengoku-sama is the winner," said Fairweather plainly.

Atobe blinked a couple times.

"Why?" he didn't care about being good at cleaning, but he wanted to at least know why he lost. He's just that kind of guy.

"He vacuumed under all the surfaces," said Fairweather, running a finger across the top of the closet. "And on top it seems."

Atobe looked at Sengoku. "So… we're tied?" he asked.

Sengoku shrugged. "I guess." He was starting to feel a little sick again. Probably bending over so much.

Atobe whipped out a Razor cell phone and began tapping away on the number pad.

"Okay, just sent Kabaji a text message—Oh look! He's replied already," his sharp hazel eyes scanned the tiny screen. "He says he'll call us tomorrow with an idea."

Sengoku nodded.

Atobe glanced at his Swatch. "Want to head back to you house? I don't want to go home until your parents come back… If that's all right, I mean."

"It's fine," said Sengoku, smiling. "We could play video games if you want."

----------

It took Atobe and Sengoku several hours to finish their 'Ultimate Championship of Pod-Racing'. When Sengoku's Anakin passed over the finish line and started dancing, Atobe's random alien guy cursed. Actually, it wasn't the game swearing, it was Atobe.

There was a growling noise and Sengoku looked down at his stomach.

"We need food," he said, and got up to go to the kitchen. He felt a little wave of disappointment when he saw the contents of the refrigerator; milk, orange juice and, in the freezer, popsicles. "Hey Atobe! Fairweather! You mind take-out Chinese?"

Fairweather didn't reply, not that Sengoku had thought he would. That competition had caused him to exhaust his word supply or something, because Fairweather hadn't spoken a complete sentence since. Atobe though, paused the game, stood up and walked over, "What-what Chinese?"

Sengoku showed him the menu. "Haven't you ever had take-out?" he asked, and showed him the lists of dishes.

Atobe looked and him, then back and the menu, shaking his head. "No…"

After Sengoku explained to him the principles of take-out food, Atobe got excited.

"So it's like room service for your house?" he said, grabbing a pencil and underlining the dishes he liked. To Sengoku's surprise, there were only three items; Beef and broccoli, General Tso's chicken, and sweet and sour chicken.

Sengoku dialed the Chinese food restaurant. "Hello?... Yes… Yes, thank you. I'd like the beef and broccoli, the--… Huh?... Oh, yeah. Sour's fine… And the General Tso's chicken, sweet and sour chicken… No… No, there's more… Thank you…"

Atobe stood nearby, impatiently tapping his foot. When Sengoku hung up, he immediately asked, "When are they coming?"

"About thirty minutes, so…" he checked his watch. "Seven-fifty-five."

When the food came, they brought down Fairweather and all sat down cross-legged in the living room. Each had a bowl filled with sauces and noodles. _The Simpsons_ played on the TV. Atobe had been very excited to see Sengoku had all of the ten available seasons.

After eating, Fairweather went back upstairs and Atobe and Sengoku had seconds from the delicious Chinese.

"Sengoku?" said Atobe, stirring his food with his chopsticks.

"Mf-yeah?" Sengoku's mouth was stuffed with vegetable lomein.

"I'm… sorry for choosing that song from _Hairspray_. I just asked Kabaji which one you seemed to hate most and he said that one. I just thought it'd be harder for you to dance to something you dislike…"

Sengoku was silent for a while. After a few minutes he said, "It's fine. It's probably better this way. I wouldn't have thought about that musical except as something painful. Now it's just a musical."

They both fell back into silence. It wasn't awkward though, and not sad. It wasn't really companionable silence either. Just a happy sort of quiet floated around this house. Atobe had been able to sense the feelings of happiness in the house from the moment he had entered.

And he envied Sengoku for being able to breathe it everyday.

----------

**Yay! My new (very angsty) chapter! Sorry for taking so long. I have a **_**ton**_** of schoolwork to do.**

**Oh yeah, and my birthday is tomorrow! November 8****th****. Hooray! If anyone actually reads these things, wish me a happy one!**

**Here's a taste of chapter nine.**

"_I need to tell you something," Sengoku took a deep breath and waited for some sort of 'go on.' When it didn't come, he continued anyway. "You know when you saw me looking in your dad's office? And I said that you should just talk to him at dinner because he was just working? Well, I lied."_

_Atobe knew what was coming next._

**Oooooohhhh! I swear, conflict comes in the next chapter. Lots of it. **

**Please read and review!**

**-OFsI**


	9. Of Fights, Secrets and Friends

**Chapter Nine**

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

----------

Once they were lying on the couch-bed, Sengoku turned towards Atobe. "Okay, I've told you mine. What's your secret?"

Atobe thought about it a bit. "Well, I only have two real friends, I was anorexic for about a month in eighth grade, I still sleep with a stuffed animal when no one is sleeping over, I sometimes like to purposely break people's windows with rocks in Oakwood because they always blame the commoners walking below, and I've never had my first kiss."

Sengoku laughed. "Well, that's all pretty expected, except the first kiss thing. Tell me your _deepest_, _darkest_ secret," he said, putting on a deep and, honestly, rather bad French accent for the last sentence.

A chuckle escaped Atobe as he tried to think of a 'deep' and 'dark' secret. He shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to go with I haven't had my first kiss."

Sengoku turned on to his back again. "It's fun to have someone sleepover, you know? All my friends are girls so they _can't_, according to mom's rules. The only people who ever come over here are my cousins and my older brother. My older brother is all right, but we aren't really friends or anything. And my cousins hate my guts."

Atobe chuckled again and watched the ceiling fan slowly twirl.

He was having a good time, but he felt oddly shallow. This friendship couldn't last. Tomorrow one would beat the other. One would win An, and the other…

The other…

He was pulled out of his thoughts with an "Atobe?"

"Yes?" he said, a little surprised.

"I need to tell you something," Sengoku took a deep breath and waited for some sort of 'go on.' When it didn't come, he continued anyway. "You know when you saw me looking in your dad's office? And I said that you should just talk to him at dinner because he was just working? Well, I lied."

Atobe knew what was coming next. He'd heard it all before. No matter what he said aloud to people, he still knew deep down that his father didn't care for him or his mother. And the same could be said for his mother. She barely saw her son more than three times a year and her husband even less.

"When I looked in there I saw your dad making out with this some blond lady," he turned towards Atobe and Atobe, expecting laughter or pity, was surprised to see Sengoku's clear green eyes staring straight into his. It was unnerving.

"I'm sorry I didn't say before. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd be happier, but…" he paused. "But, I think you should know. It's your family, not mine."

Atobe tried not to look at Sengoku's pale, pointed face. All silliness in his eyes was gone, and it hadn't been replaced by pity. It had been replaced with none other then Atobe's least favorite emotion.

Guilt.

"I've known for a while," said Atobe honestly.

Sengoku's eyes snapped wide open. "You have? But you were defending you dad before at your house…"

Atobe grimaced. "I always do," he stopped a moment and thought. "But—I don't care now, you know that? I really don't care!" He laughed. "Isn't that funny? I could care less because _I_ know _I_ don't really need him! I don't care if he doesn't care about me or mum, or if mum cares about me or dad! I really _could care less_!" He emphasized those last three words and continued to chuckle. "He doesn't love me at all, I know that now that I've said it out loud! I don't care what he or mom think of me now!"

Sengoku hit him with a pillow. "I would've told you earlier if I'd known you'd known!" He watched Atobe laugh happily. Nothing was funny, he was just happy. "Why do you not care _now_ but you did _then_?"

"I don't know," he said happily. "You know, it's only been about a week but…" Then he remembered his thoughts a few seconds ago.

They probably wouldn't be friends by the end of the next day.

"I'm going to sleep, Se—opponent," he turned over and stared at the kitchen, at the clean tiles surrounding the chrome sink. He wished he had a kitchen like that. He'd make crumbles all day and spend time with An all night.

Sengoku lay awake. He felt confused. Atobe had been laughing a second before, why had he just shut off like that? He kept looking over at his alarm clock. 12:00, 1:24, 2:45, 3:02, 4:17…

"Atobe, I just realized something!" he said, sitting up and shaking Atobe.

"What?" Atobe asked drowsily. He'd only fallen asleep an hour before.

"I don't really care about An!" Sengoku said, and he sounded excited.

"What!?" He sat up, staring at Sengoku. Was he nuts? Was he talking in his sleep?

"I've only known her a couple of weeks Atobe!" said Sengoku. "Well… A couple times before that, but I've only hung out with her three times. In these past couple of days, I haven't even thought about her that much! You win by default since I don't really like her that mu—"

And then Atobe slapped him across the face.

----------

Sengoku put a hand to his stinging cheek. He realized soon after just to be babying just his cheek was a bit odd, seeing as his nose was bleeding like crazy. He grabbed a tissue from the coffee table, still staring at Atobe.

He finally spoke again. "Why d'you do that?" he asked, thickly.

Atobe was breathing heavily. His face showed nothing more then raw fury.

"Don't you understand, git?" he yelled. He'd probably awoken Fairweather, but he decided, savagely, that he didn't care. "An is an amazing girl! You can't just cut her out of your life! I'm not going to win this just because you think you can forget her! How could you forget her anyway? She's _unforgettable_!"

Sengoku blinked, speechless. _Good!_ thought Atobe, trying to squash the other part of his mind that was screaming at him to stop now. _Very good!_

"You think, just because your mummy and daddy worship you, and you have a million best friends that An isn't important? She's the most important thing! I began asking her out six months ago and have ask her out 13 times since! You-You--!

"Well, I'll show you! We'll go by the street courts tomorrow and watch her for a bit, then you'll remember what this is all about!"

Silence filled the house. Any trace of happiness on Sengoku's face was gone, whipped away by Atobe's words. Atobe suddenly felt regret creep into his mind. The angry side put up quite a good fight, but the seeping guilty feeling spread throughout his brain.

"Sengok—" he started but Sengoku cut him off.

"I'm fine," said Sengoku, forcing a smile on to his face. Actually, he was nearly believable. And Atobe would've fallen for it, but his voice was a little too high and his smile a little too tight. "Just leave it. Seriously. We'll be heading off in a couple hours so we should get some sleep."

And he turned away, but turned back towards him a few seconds later.

"Atobe?"

"Yeah?" Maybe Sengoku wanted him to apologize. Atobe prayed to God that Sengoku would accept any apology of his.

"You're my only best friend."

And he turned away and the house seemed so much darker to Atobe after that.

----------

----------

**Oh! Drama::Gasps:: There's no preview in this chapter because it would give away too much. Are you curious? I know I'm not!**

**I want to hear predictions of who wins! Please review!**

**-OFSI**


	10. Champion

**Chapter Ten**

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

---

-7- Kabaji challenge

----------

"Oh come on An!" said Akira, giving An a little shove. "You know I could beat you in a second!"

The tomboy flicked a bit of hair out of her face. "Watch me beat you in fifteen minutes, Kamio!" she said, grabbing a tennis racket and going out on to the courts.

Atobe and Sengoku peeked out from behind the nearby garage to see An hit a strong smash. Atobe glanced at Sengoku to see the love-lorn face Atobe wore in his mind.

He smiled to himself. Point proven.

Unfortunately, going down to the street courts for an hour had gotten them pretty far from where they _should _have been. Kabaji's house. But the younger boy still hadn't called them with an idea. Atobe kept glancing at his cell phone when they were in the limo again, willing Kabaji to call. The silence in the backseat was so thick that speaking into it would've been like swimming through concrete.

Finally, when they were pulling into Sengoku's driveway, Atobe's cell phone began to ring and vibrate.

"_'Hi Barbie.' 'Hi Ken!' 'You wanna go for a ride?' 'Sure Ken!' 'Hop in.' I'm a Barbie g_—"

"Hello?"

Sengoku stared out the window as Atobe chattered into his phone. He didn't even turn away from the bright green lawn when Atobe hung up.

"So! Kabaji has an idea, but he says he'd much rather explain it in person, so we ought to go over there now. Is that all right with you?" Once Sengoku had nodded, Atobe leaned forward and tapped Fairweather's shoulder.

"Drive," was the only word out of his mouth.

It took only a few minutes to reach Kabaji's house. Sengoku was rather surprised when they parked in the driveway. The bright red walls glowed even brighter up close in the bright summer light. The windows were wide open so he could hear a lilting, high-pitched voice of a woman on a television.

It was the red house! Kabaji lived in the red house! His father was the man Sengoku liked to watch drive to Oakwood. Sengoku quivered with excitement as they walked up to the front door and he nearly forgot to not speak to Atobe. But they weren't best friends anymore—they were rivals.

A tall, curvy woman opened the door and let them in when she saw Atobe. The walls of the living room were bright, eye-watering blue and the whole house smelled of curry.

They walked up to Kabaji's room, which was in what Sengoku assumed used to be an attic.

Kabaji was sitting on the bed reading, but got up when they walked in. "Atobe-san! I have an idea for the final challenge. It took me a while, but I got it last night. Let me just get drinks." He offered them sodas, which they accepted. Sengoku gazed around the room.

The walls were the only white ones in the house and dark wooden shelves went up the even parts of the walls, stopping when they began to slope. The bed was made of dark wood. It was covered with white duvet. All in all, the room seemed to be the least hectic in the house.

But the whole house had a very warm, full feeling. Sengoku liked that. His house, ever since his older brother had left for university, had a sort of chilly, empty feeling. _It's probably the color_, Sengoku decided. _Maybe I can talk mom into painting some of the rooms with me later._

Sengoku looked at Atobe, who was staring at the book Kabaji had been reading.

The cover was silvery gray and showed three ink drawing, two hands in black leather gloves, a hand writing out _Montmorency_ several times, and a man in a black top hat. Beside these, in old-looking script, were several bright red letters; _Montmorency_. Atobe rubbed his thumb along the sides of the pages and opened the book.

Sengoku was surprised to see the small Latin alphabet letters printed on the paper. A couple words had been highlighted, he assumed to look up later, but they were few and far between.

So much for the Yamabuki myth of Kabaji being an idiot.

Atobe smiled. "It's his favorite book," he said with a smile. "I'm glad his dad bought it for him in English."

He looked at Sengoku, trying to say with his eyes, _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

Sengoku smiled back. He was about to say something else when Kabaji returned with a tray laden with food and drinks.

"As usual mom goes overboard," he said quietly, and set the tray down on the bed.

"So what's your idea, Kabaji?" Atobe asked and picked up a piece of naan bread.

"Okay, if you're with a girl, you'll have to put up with all kinds of cooking, right?" he asked. Atobe and Sengoku nodded, continuing to eat off the tray. "My challenge is to see who can eat the most disgusting food without gagging or giving yourself away. It's even better if you can smile at the end."

"That sounds great Kabaji!" said Sengoku. He had nearly forgotten after a year, he was still an actor, pretending to be happy was his specialty.

Kabaji looked surprised and immediately closed up. "Thank you, Sengoku-san," he said quietly, breaking eye contact.

Atobe looked thoughtful. "That is good. When should we come back?"

Kabaji raised an eyebrow. "Why would you be leaving Atobe-san? My sister made dinner last night."

----------

Atobe and Sengoku looked at the plates of food in front of them. They were sitting cross-legged on the white-carpeted floor of Kabaji's room. He had heated up several plates of steaming, strong-smelling curries and taken them up stairs, first putting a cloth over his floor.

Kabaji looked at his watch. "You start in ten seconds."

Atobe began to count down inside his head. His hands gripped the fork and spoon Kabaji had handed him. His knuckles were white. This was it. This was the end. This was the end of the competition.

He got the feeling that, had that argument never happened, Sengoku would continue being friends with him even if Atobe won. That meant he could apologize in due course. He wondered if he would be able to apologize to Sengoku if Sengoku won.

"Four… Three…" Kabaji counted.

Sengoku bit his lip. He could do this—he knew he could. Nothing could stop him. He could probably even take one of those weird juices Momoshiro had told him about.

"Two… One…" Kabaji tapped his watch. "Go!"

They both began to eat, not quickly, but steadily. The food really was bad. It tasted like all the spices had burned and the potatoes were under cooked. Sengokus's stomach had a funny squelchy feeling in it, but he finished the potato and green bean curry and proceeded to the next dish, lamb vindaloo.

Atobe gagged as he bit into the chicken tikka and felt a wave of horror crash into him.

Sengoku stopped eating and turned towards him. His eyes were wide with shock and a bit of rice fell from his mouth and on to his plate.

Kabaji had heard it too. A look of disappointment clouded his face for a moment before he said, very quietly, "Sengoku-san… wins…"

The redhead felt a wave of relief. He was safe, he had An. She was _his_. She would be his forevermore.

He remembered when he had called Momoshiro for the cooking competition. Momo had been on a cell phone so his voice had wavered a little as they had spoken.

"What's this for?" Momo had asked Sengoku when he was informed about the challenge.

Sengoku had explained and Momo gave a loud laugh.

"Don't be so certain you'll get the prize! Atobe's not always trustworthy and An has a lot of other guys fawning over her."

It wasn't until they were in the limo again that Sengoku could finally bring up the courage to look at Atobe. He slowly moved his head towards his recently acquired friend. He was surprised to see him smiling.

"Congratulations," Atobe offered a long, bony hand and Sengoku took it. "You did really well. I could barely get through the potatoes."

Sengoku laughed, albeit nervously. He wanted Atobe and him to become friends again. Would he simply ditch him now, even if he apologized? Sengoku had been so mean before and he knew Atobe would've apologized had he given him the chance. The noise of his worrying mind made it difficult to hear Atobe.

"Do you want to try and ask out An this evening?" he asked Sengoku.

Sengoku nodded and bit his lip. He was reaching towards happiness and now it was brushing the tip of his middle finger.

It was sort of scaring him and he couldn't work out why.

----------

**Omigod! Sen-sen won! Exciting. Will he get An? Will he get in a car crash? Will he randomly fall in love with Atobe? Will he… um… ::ran out of ideas:: Oh well. Here's your preview!**

_Sengoku took a deep breath._

_"An, I—"_

**I'm awful aren't I? I want reviews on this chapter by the way! I was so upset about the last one getting **_**nothing**_**. Nada. **

**-OFsI**


	11. Goodnight, Goodbye

**A Brief Author's Note—Please read!**

Hello to all my readers, anonymous or not. This is Old Fiat s. Italy. I have a very important announcement. Two actually, but one is more important than the other. This story, _Just Another Day_, was mainly published on here so I could tell all of you this, so please listen.

My first announcement is about the unfortunate incident with the ninth chapter. There was a mix-up there and the eighth chapter was posted twice as some of you may already know. If you didn't read it before, I urge you to read it now before the end of this story!

And now for my second announcement—the more important one. My writing partner, Old Fiat n. France, and I are leaving the _Prince of Tennis_ section after this story is finished. That's right. Gone for good. However, not all is lost! All our stories will remain up on our profile and we will be moving to the _High School Musical_ section. Yes, you heard me right, _High School Musical_. We already have two (soon to be three) stories there. If you're into HSM as well as PoT, pop over to our profile and give them a read. If not, I'm sorry.

I hope to see you all in the HSM section!

Yours,

_**Old Fiat Southern Italy**_


	12. Friends Forever, Love Fornever

**Chapter Eleven**

-1- Boxing

-2- Dancing

-3- Stock (how much money you can make in a day without an advisor)

-4- Cooking

-5- Cleaning

-6- Budget creating

---

-7- Kabaji challenge: How much bad food can you eat without gagging.

**CHAMPION:****SENGOKU**

----------

Sengoku stepped out of the shower feeling a lot calmer. He went into his bedroom and began putting together an outfit, making sure he wore an actual pair of matching shoes.

He gave a like jumped of happiness when he looked at himself in the mirror. The pink, white, and green striped short sleeved, button-up shirt looked awesome with his khaki cargo shorts. His put his hands the pocket and wondered whether or not he should put on some sort of cologne.

Atobe sat on the couch downstairs, flicking through the television channels. He couldn't pay attention to anything.

Fairweather came over to him and put a strong hand on his shoulder. "You're doing the right thing."

Atobe nodded, looking up at the chauffer/body guard's face. While Fairweather seemed terrifying to some, to Atobe he was a comfort.

"I hope Sengoku just appreciates her properly."

----------

An sat on the tennis courts with Akira and drank some Gatorade. The sun was setting over Tokyo; the whole city had a deep orange glow. An and Akira had discovered last summer that the tennis courts had the perfect view of this spectacle.

So in the summer, they always took a break from tennis in the evening for thirty minutes to watch. Even though she and Akira were just friends, they were close. He told her everything and she told him anything.

At that moment that were talking about Atobe.

"I know he's trying to be nice," said An, leaning against the base of the bench behind her. "But I just don't like him that way."

Akira nodded. "And I wouldn't want to upset him to upset you. Atobe's neck might not last."

An giggled. She knew Akira's opinions of all the guys surrounding her. "But it would just be meaner to lead him on. I could never do that!"

Akira nodded. "I wonder if he's finally given up. I've not seen him for a _fabulous_ couple of days."

"I wonder if—" An was suddenly cut off.

"An!" Sengoku was running over to her from the other side of the courts. His body was a silhouette against the enormous red sky. Streaks of orange and gold spread across the sun and behind her a dark blue was leaking in the fiery sky like watercolor.

He stopped in front of her. She saw the red tulips in his hand and knew what was coming. She didn't want to do something like this to Sengoku.

He took a deep breath.

"An, I—"

"Yo! An!"

She and Sengoku turned to look at the stairs. Sengoku was surprised to see Momoshiro was bouncily walking across the tennis courts.

An walked past Sengoku and into Momo's outstretched arms. "Momo-kun!" She kissed him on the cheek.

Sengoku's heart crumbled as Momo gave An a quick peck on the lips.

"Aren't we going to see a movie?" he asked, his arm around her shoulders.

"Of course!" She laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist. "I've been told the new _Hairspray_ is good!"

"Anything you want," Momo laughed and began to lead her off the tennis courts. "I'll even treat you to snacks and dinner."

"Who's paying for the movie tickets?"

Her sweet voice was growing fainter for Sengoku and far louder for Momoshiro.

"Guess," Momo laughed again.

"You're awful! If you buy them, I'll pay for snacks…"

Sengoku turned towards to Akira. The tulips were still clutched in his pale hand.

"_Hairspray_…" he said under his breath. He could've started laughing right there and then. "_Hairspray_…"

"Huh?" questioned Akira, who hadn't even gotten up.

Sengoku looked at the flowers and took a deep breath. "Do you want these?"

Akira gave him a sideways look.

"Are you asking me out?" he asked, looking a little disgusted.

"No!" Sengoku said, a little louder than he meant to. Then he calmed down once more. "I just don't want them. I need to, you know, heal or something."

"No problem," he took the tulips from Sengoku's hand and set them down next to him. "Want some Gatorade?" He then added, "For shock?"

Sengoku laughed. "No thanks. I've gotta run." And he walked off across the courts.

Akira looked at the tulips. Their petals were bright and shone in the warm glow of the sun. He stood up and brushed off his trousers. Poor Sengoku. No guy had a chance of coming in between An and Momo. Actually, no guy had had a chance with An even before she knew Momo.

Life was basically a run back and forth from a rock to a hard place.

He watched Sengoku walk slowly down the concrete steps and down the sidewalk. He had obviously gotten dressed up just to do this.

Sengoku turned a corner and opened the door of the limo. He sat down, still a little shell shocked, but otherwise all right.

Atobe looked at him.

"What about An?" he asked.

Sengoku shook his head. "I'll tell you later." He turned towards Atobe.

"Friends again? Please?" Sengoku stuck out his hand.

"Of course. I was going to apologize soon anyway," Atobe grabbed his hand and shook it.

Sengoku clapped his hands. "Okay! How about we go home, watch TV and order pizza."

Atobe smiled. "All right! I heard they're having a Zoey 101 marathon on Nick."

Sengoku smiled too. Suddenly, he didn't care about An. He finally had a best friend and he felt like he was floating on air, lying on a cloud, sleeping on the wind. He knew what Atobe had felt when he thought the same thing about his father. He didn't care! An was happy, but neither he nor Atobe could be the one to make he so.

But he finally had a friend he knew wouldn't leave. So Sengoku danced across the stage in his mind.

And nothing was going to bring him down to earth.

**THE END**

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**Goodbye my sweet readers! I love you all!**

**Special kudos go to **_**Ahotep**_** and **_**Akaya Kirirhara**_**, for sticking with me to the bitter end. I love you guys! Thank you for always being there for me even though we've never met. That is a true example of kindness!**

**Or maybe not the bitter end if they like HSM**

**-OFsI**


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